


I Lied My Face Off

by Emphysematous



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Consensual Thramsay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slut Shaming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9630473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emphysematous/pseuds/Emphysematous
Summary: Incredibly quick and dirty Thramsay PWP. Not proofread.Ramsay’s been away for a few days. He’s cold, hungry and exhausted. Theon just wants to get fucked.Set in LelithSugar's Consensual!Thramsay canon divergence (R & T are perverts in love living out a BDSM wet dream of fully consensual power exchange)





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been watching a ton of handsfree prostate orgasm porn and got inspired. Sorry, not sorry.

The ‘short trip’ Roose had sent him on had convoluted and twisted out into five days of hostility, negotiation and diplomacy - with an added dash of violence, which always tended to speed things up when they got a bit stagnant. Ramsay had ridden back 18 hours straight in the rain - stopping only to piss, eat, and change horses - to report his progress to Roose; and had endured a further two hours of exhaustive questioning and rebukes over the way he had handled matters. It made no difference that the outcome was in their favour: Roose always objected to his methods no matter how many times he proved their efficacy. Not that he’d bothered to take his son aside and teach him any other way to achieve his ends. No, that would have been far too easy and taken far too much effort.

Soaked through, figuratively and literally beaten, mentally exhausted and dejected over Roose’s lack of acknowledgement of his obvious competence in these things, Ramsay wearily climbed the stairs to his rooms, dragging his cloak and travelbag behind him, thinking longingly of a hot bath and hotter stew, perhaps with some of that apricot brandy - if he had any left…

Theon launched himself at him the moment Ramsay closed the door. “You’re back, you’re back, you’re back!” he crowed, jumping up and around Ramsay like an oversized puppy. “You were gone _forever_!” He wrapped Ramsay in a bearhug, kissed his forehead, nose and lips, then busied himself helping relieve him of his burden, bustling round the room shaking out travel worn clothes, tutting over the bloodstains as if they were so much spilled wine, talking a mile a minute.

Ramsay slumped into his chair and held out a mug. Theon filled it with wine for him and carried on chattering as Ramsay drank it down in four large gulps. “…of course, it’s hardly a surprise, she’s not exactly been keeping him a secret, but she’ll have to drag him down to the Sept and get herself wed before she starts showing.”

Ramsay had absolutely no idea who he was talking about - nor did he care. He stared dully down at himself, noticing for the first time the mud spatters that caked him up beyond the knee; the filth and dirt from the road seemed to be ingrained into every inch of him. He gazed at the embers of the fire, wishing that he could feel some warmth from it; every part of his skin felt numb with cold. Theon - still talking - moved to pile more wood onto the fire and Ramsay shut his eyes in pleasure as the first wave of heat began to thaw him out. Theon was utterly wasted as a highborn lord; that subconscious attention to the wants and needs of his master was the stuff of dreams in a good manservant.

Refilling Ramsay’s wine, Theon knelt next to him - still talking - and methodically unlaced and removed his mud-caked boots, then wiped his hands and began to unbutton his sodden jerkin, peeling the thick wool off him with some effort. Ramsay let himself be undressed - almost too tired to do it himself. He drank down his wine like a man dying of thirst, hoping to feel the tendrils of warmth start to swirl through his stomach. Having stripped the top half of him to the skin, Theon pulled him to his feet and yanked his trousers and underclothes off him as well, then rubbed him down with clean towels. He already had soft, clean, lambswool and linen clothes laid out on the bed, waiting to be changed into. _Such a good boy._

Dry, mostly clean, and just about starting to warm up, Ramsay felt moderately better about his day. Theon helped, of course. It was unnerving just how much Ramsay missed him when they were apart for any length of time. He had thrown himself into his role of personal servant fully and wholeheartedly, and seemed genuinely content to set out clothes and make beds and fetch and carry and do all the hundreds of tiny little imperceptible tasks that made life so much easier for him. Without him, Ramsay found himself going unshaven because he’d forgotten the strop for his razor, or going thirsty because the water had to be fetched from the courtyard three floors and several long hallways away and he was too tired or lazy to go and get some.

There were other perks to having Theon about, too, Ramsay mused as they curled up on the bed together, Theon wrapping his arms and legs around him, sharing his body heat. Theon laid gentle kisses along his collarbones, his warm hands stroking up and down Ramsay’s sides while he murmured loving nothings to him, rocking them gently side to side. Ramsay closed his eyes and finally - finally - began to relax.

Theon’s words were trickling over him, Theon’s kisses fluttered at his jaw and neck. Theon’s hands stroked softly over his body. Theon’s… Theon was humping him. The insatiable little _shit_.

His eyes shot open the moment he realised that the gentle, soothing rocking wasn’t a loving attempt at relaxation, but an effort to get himself fucked. Ugh. At any other time, Ramsay would have been only too happy to oblige, but right now all he wanted was to not move or do anything at all for as long as possible. He sighed.

“Theon, I swear to all the gods that if you keep poking me with that thing, I really will actually cut it off.”

A pause of blissful quiet and stillness. Then: “But… Ram…?” Theon was kissing him again. Pressing his erection into Ramsay’s thigh. “It’s been days and days and days…” Hot hands sliding down his body, working under his clothes, finding only limp softness, but massaging at it anyway. Voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I’ve been such a good boy…”

Ramsay actually rolled his eyes. “Theon, I’ve been awake for several days straight. I’m cold, I’m tired. You can sort yourself out for one more night. Let me sleep.”

The tiniest of huffs, but Theon obediently turned over, snuggling himself to fit into the curve of Ramsay’s body and settled down. Ramsay squeezed his hip, thanking him, and let himself sink again into the silence and stillness and dark.

Gods, he’d been riding far too long. His whole body ached from it, and his head felt as though he was still trotting along. He could still feel the movement of the horse beneath him, the squeak of the leather, the sway of its gait. The whole bed seemed to be rocking and shaking… Theon. Theon was touching himself, jerking the bed. Ugh.

“Maiden’s tits, Thee! Take it somewhere else, would you?” Ramsay shoved at him, half-heartedly trying to push him out of bed.

“I’m not doing anything!” Theon protested, cock still firmly in hand.

“You’re keeping me the fuck awake!”

Theon huffed again. “I thought you’d want to fuck me after being away so long. I missed you! I’ve been waiting for you for days!”

Ramsay shut his eyes. “Not my problem. You have hands, and you know how to use them.”

“But it’s not as good as when you do it… And I don’t want hands, I want you to fuck me.” Theon whined.

“Don’t care. You can fuck yourself or go without.” Ramsay rolled over, turning his back, and wrapped himself in blankets, trying to reclaim the peace and sleepiness from a few moments ago. “Just whatever you do, leave me the fuck out of it,” he added over his shoulder.

He felt the bed shift as Theon moodily rolled out of it and stomped across the room.  "And don’t fucking sulk!“ He growled, knowing perfectly well that Theon would be pouting and scowling in annoyance at being denied.

"I’m not sulking!” Theon grumbled, clearly sulking. He flung himself into the chair by the fire and folded his arms, staring out the window.

There was a long moment of tense silence. Ramsay shifted and wriggled in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. It was no good. He was awake again. And, gods damn it all, Theon had managed to stir him after all. His cock twitched as he remembered how desperately Theon had been pressing against him, how much he’d wanted it. Fuck it, why was he so sexy? Ramsay peeped out at him from under his lashes. He was still sitting moodily by the fire, the orange light picking out his profile and his lips and the tiny hint of tongue as he licked them. Such a good tongue, which could do such incredible things… No. Ramsay had told him it wasn’t going to happen tonight and he couldn’t back down on that.

But…

He pushed himself up on his elbows. “If you’re going to sit there awake, you can go and get me some food and some more wine.”

“Get it yourself or go without.” Theon groused, wrapping his arms around himself.

Ramsay raised an eyebrow. “Greyjoy…” he warned. “Fetch me food and wine. Now.” He lowered his tone, growling now, “and you’ll probably want to get some grease too.”

Theon’s head snapped up, his eyes shining. “Oh?” His lips curved into that beautiful, filthy smile.

“Just a thought.” Ramsay shrugged and lay back with his hands under his head.

Grinning to himself, Theon grabbed Reek’s filthy cloak and shuffled into his hunched timidness, leaving the room as fast as his fake limp would let him. Ramsay listened to him hobbling down the steps and then hopped out of bed, ideas forming.

Theon had pretty much stated outright that he wanted to get fucked. And Ramsay had flatly told him he wasn’t going to accommodate him. So. He opened a chest and began rooting through its contents. Devices, appliances, contraptions and implements were tossed aside as he dug for… ah… Yes. Grunting  a little, because it was buried under a lot of other things, Ramsay heaved out a large disk of wood with leather straps. Well, mostly a disk.

He set it on a chair and secured it in place with the belts. A smooth, polished wooden phallus stood proudly at a slight forward angle, held firmly to the chair. Ramsay had had it made for him by a carpenter near the Neck after a rather frustrating couple of days of trying to get similar toys to stay where he fucking put them. Not the most portable of solutions, but incredibly effective. Ramsay had put a crossbow bolt through the man’s skull minutes after payment, of course. He wasn’t going to let _that_ kind of rumour fly loose about the countryside.

Digging out one of the many pots of grease and oil they had stashed about the place, Ramsay liberally coated the wooden cock, ready for use. He placed the adapted chair in the middle of the room, and pulled his comfortable armchair around to face it, next to the fireplace. Arranging himself in a pose of elegant recline, he put his feet up on the bed frame and took a jewelled goblet down from the mantlepiece, ready for his wine.

With perfect timing, Theon’s footsteps scuffed up the stairs and the door creaked open. He was laden with wineskins, and a large platter of cold meats and pastries. He paid no attention to the chair at first, too busy settling the plate conveniently near Ramsay, and filling his goblet with wine, still in role as subservient, obsequious Reek.

Carelessly, Ramsay gestured Theon to strip, mouth too full of roast goose to give the command verbally. He washed the meat down with sweet red wine and refilled his cup, crossing his legs.

Theon stood naked for him, hands behind his back, cock hard but not standing, head down but eyes watching for the next instruction. Ramsay pointed at the chair and Theon was three strides towards it before he realised how it had been modified. He faltered only for a moment, head snapping round to give Ramsay a filthy smirk. With little ado, Theon gently lowered himself onto the toy, shifting and wriggling as he eased it into his arse. The grease warmed with his body heat and began to get slicker. Theon rocked his hips experimentally, and shivered, hand going straight to his cock, touching himself, tossing his head back dramatically, giving Ramsay a show.

“No hands.” Ramsay sipped at his wine, and picked through the meat for particularly tasty pieces. Groaning, Theon gave himself one last squeeze and clasped his hands behind his back, rocking and shifting on the wooden cock. Ramsay watched him idly, as if he were just another boring mummer’s play he’d been forced to attend with his father for the sake of being polite.

Theon eyed him warily, waiting for him to come and _do_ something to him. Ramsay let him wait, busying himself with the food. Eventually, he knew, Theon’s patience would- “Raaaaam…” Theon whined, hips rocking slightly.

“Hmmn?” Ramsay queried, not bothering to look up from his slice of pork pie.

“Ram, fuck me?” Theon wiggled on the chair, his cock hard and shining with precome.

“I told you: I’m not going to fuck you tonight. Fuck yourself, Thee. Or go without.” Ramsay smiled sweetly at him, taking a bite of cheese.  

With a little grunt, Theon began to thrust on the wooden cock more determinedly, one hand running through his hair, the other grasping at himself, stroking, squeezing. He moaned a little, getting into it.

“No hands!” Ramsay snapped. “Hands on the back of your neck, Thee.” Theon stared at him, hips still rocking. Reluctantly, he laced his fingers behind his neck and wriggled awkwardly, seemingly at a loss. Ramsay bit into an unidentified pastry, grimaced, spat it out. Dried fruit and raisins. Ugh. He threw the remains into the fire and selected a different one, pushing his thumbnail into it first. Some kind of meat. Good.

Theon whined at him, glancing meaningfully down at his cock. Ramsay cocked his head quizzically back at him, feigning ignorance. “Fuck yourself. That’s what you wanted, right? To get fucked? I’m not gonna do it. So fuck yourself, Thee.” He leaned forward in his chair, lowering his voice. “I want to see you make yourself come for me.”

Eyes fluttering, Theon sighed happily and set back to work, raising and lowering himself, thrusting his hips, hands still up, elbows out. Ramsay put his feet back up on the bed frame and watched, peeling an apple with his belt knife.  "Come, Thee. I want to see you come.“ Theon’s body twitched, and he gasped. His wild thrusting softened to purposeful rocking and circling; he’d found the best position, now it was just a matter of maintaining those feelings…

Crunching on apple, Ramsay watched, fascinated. Gods, he was so beautiful. The firelight bathed him in warm light, one moment erasing every mark on his body, the next highlighting them all in stark contrast. His ribcage flexed under his skin with every thrust and every breath, his hipbones still bruised from being firmly grasped while he was fucked over a week ago. Head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth open, Theon chased his pleasure with abandon, partly giving Ramsay the view he wanted, partly just desperate to come.

"You enjoying yourself, whore?” Ramsay asked, sipping at wine again. Theon nodded enthusiastically, a little past the verbal stage. “Shall I make this your chair in the great hall?” Ramsay mused, as if to himself. “Shall I put it there for all the keep to see; so they all know what kind of seat Reek uses?”

A squeak. Theon’s mouth opened wordlessly, his breathing becoming ragged. Ramsay could see the tension in his arms as he fought to keep his hands in place, to not touch himself.  "Should i make you sit there during dinner? Make you fuck yourself at table, in front of everyone in the hall?“ Theon cried out, a noise halfway to a yelp. As he got closer, his movements became smaller and more controlled, centering in on the exact movements that felt good.

"Should I let everyone know what a filthy, desperate little slut you are? How you’ll even fuck yourself if no one else will do it for you?” Ramsay whispered at him. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

“Ah!” Theon’s entire body jerked and his cock pulsed, come spurting over his own belly. He shook with the effort of not touching himself, of keeping his hands up, keeping his body upright.

“Good boy…” Ramay purred, watching Theon’s flushed face relax and the tension leave his body, chest heaving as he panted for breath. “Such a good boy… See, you didn’t need me at all!”

Theon shot him a dirty look.  "Agh, that was… intense.“ Ramsay grinned broadly at him and helped him off the chair to flop on his back on the bed.

"Feeling better?” Ramsay trailed his fingers through the pool of come on Theon’s stomach, scooping it up.

Theon giggled, legs rising protectively. “Tickles!” he squirmed, “and yes, thanks. Much better.”

“Good.” Ramsay was wiggling out of his trousers, wrapping his hand around his own erection. He kissed Theon’s thigh, hip, stomach, nipple. “My turn…” he breathed into his ear.

He grasped Theon by the shoulder and the hip and rolled him over onto his stomach, yanking him down the bed until his hips reached the edge. One arm wrapped around Theon’s shoulders, the other hand probed between his legs, feeling the slickness between his buttocks. “You’re just so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, pressing his cock against Theon’s arse, slick with Theon’s own come. “And you asked so nicely; how could I refuse this glorious arse?”

With a stifled moan, Theon pushed himself back and onto Ramsay’s cock. “I thought you said you weren’t going to fuck me?” 

Ramsay shrugged. “I lied.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Any comments, suggestions, criticism, enthusiastically received!


End file.
